The revolution has begun -

No, it has always been -

And can never stop -

For if we win we become them

I don't go about wearing rose-colored glasses. Also I realize the sad fact that religion has been trammeled, stomped and spit on. Still I turn to the forgotten discipline of philosophy to mediate my minds tempests. My personal philosophy allows for the oft mentioned contention of physicists - infinite or highly plural universes. In my darkest hour when the whole world denies me pleasure or satisfaction; when indeed my God is as apathetic as a grain of sand on a planet a galaxy away - I envision through my tears that the daydream, the core of my soul's desire, exists somewhere. Call it self-hypnosis, spiritual mumbo jumbo, or plain wishful thinking but it's MY vision. Considering the billions of trees falling never to be heard, people long past forgotten, stars never to be seen - MY vision is more real than any of them. We're told they exist; then what of my dream?

GOTH TEASE

Mine brain kist by succubus again...

Lips, a touch from which I shall ne'er win...

Eyes offering hope, where there be none...

All enchantment torn by the sun...

All thine charms could not be listed...

Indeed thee be a Harlequin Twisted

WINDSONG

In the meadows there

Aboded a flutist fair

And on her songs they say

She can steal your breath away.

For playing so beautiful,

Melodies so sweet,

Caressing the persons

Of the ears they meet.

But as I find her not there

It is but the whistling

Of the willows swinging in the air